


The Envy Of Forever

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [84]
Category: Combat Zone Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: (we almost had a shortest-reign-in-iws-history situation again), Jealousy, Joey was a DIRL before it was cool, Kayfabe Compliant, Kevin ships it apparently, M/M, Pining, Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, aggressive affection, background Hero/Claudio?, but only in Kevin's mind, mentions of Joey Ryan, obligatory Joey Ryan warning, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, stealth shipping?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 03:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13918014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: (is the failure of today)bby!Steen freaks out backstage at a CZW show, and very pointedly does not deal with his many, many feelings.





	The Envy Of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> Man, power outages, tornado season, and fic writing, oh my! So, there is a not insignificant amount of weather rolling around my area recently, and I almost didn't get this up, as my internet company has been shitting the bed for like, a month now. Just saying, if these don't go up on time, fear not. I've got a shitton of work into this, mother nature can take a number.
> 
> Anyway, on to the CZW era of Steenerico. This was a fun time. Just wait until, hmm, it was maybe Kevin's second run with the hardcore title? I don't remember exactly. We will get there eventually, and it will be hilarious. Zandig is quite the crazy little promoter, and CZW was and still is a very strange and *interesting* thing both in real life and kayfabe.

Kevin is minding his own business, pacing back and forth by the back staircase, belt in hand and eyes frantically trailing over the stained stucco, when he hears a voice call out to him from down the hall. He holds in a groan, the sound getting stuck in his esophagus and reverberating around in is rib cage like a repressed growl. Kevin desperately wants to ignore the idiot pitter-pattering his way over to Kevin’s panicking corner, but the asshole calls out again, just as he gets within a few yards of Kevin’s personal space.

“Kevin! I need to talk to you!” Chris Sabin says, like the fucker has any right to demand a single moment of Kevin’s attention at all.

“Go the fuck away, Chris. I’ve got things to do.”

_-more like freaking out to do-_

(regardless, that doesn’t involve him, so…)

 _-just_ **_waiting_ ** _for-_

(save it)

“Steen, come on. Don’t be a sour puss. There is unfinished business between you and I.” Sabin has that annoying little smirk on his face, his weird, high-pitched voice grating on Kevin’s nerves in a way that he had not expected.

Kevin glances around, already prepared for this conversation to be **over** , so that he can go and…

(do literally anything else but stand here)

 _-_ **_he’s_ ** _not done with Ryan yet though-_

_-so it doesn’t matter where you go-_

(...fuck)

“Like I give a shit,” Kevin says easily, flapping the hardcore title around in the air by it’s strap, wondering how hard he would have to swing it through the air for it to snap in two like so much useless fluff. He resists the strong urge to test that thought, reigning himself in slightly and forcing himself to lay the belt somewhat gently down on the upturned bathtub that he is currently using as a table. He rests the belt down next to his bag before rummaging around for his wrist tape

As he winds the tape up his forearms, Kevin ponders exactly how much tape he could put all over himself and not get bitched at for being a ‘whiny, yellow-bellied, chickenshit pheasant with the pain tolerance of a third grader fresh out of prep school’, like Claudio had screamed out at Sonjay earlier.

Kevin wasn’t even sure how exactly that was supposed to be an insult. Pheasants are like, a Eight-And-Three-Quarters on the Cute-Bird-O-Meter. Maybe Claudio had meant ‘peasant’, not ‘pheasant’.

Regardless, since Claudio had chosen yell out such a taunt in the open (when they all happened to be in the back, everybody gathered up to listen to Zandig’s stupid roll call idiocy) Sonjay had taken the opportunity to lose his shit and go after Claudio. They had rolled around on the floor like the senseless fools that they were for like twenty minutes, until Hero finally deigned to pull Claudio off to the back parking lot, for a cool down blow job, or whatever that fat asshole’s method was for calming his crazy tag team partner.

Kevin is still convinced that the whole thing was just a charade, so that Sonjay, Claudio and Hero could get out of listening to Zandig ramble on like everyone's most dreaded, boring ass high school history teacher. Sonjay was always doing shit like that, just to fuck with people. And he and Claudio seemed to get along surprisingly well, despite the insults and the rude banter.

“Are you listening to me?” snaps Sabin, bringing Kevin back to reality with an efficiency that pisses Kevin off more than it probably should.

“Not even in my most bored, devoid of entertaining pass times, Sabin. Go whine to literally anyone else before I waste away from the very presence of your charisma-vacuuming eyebrows.” Kevin delivers his snark as flatly as he can manage, hoping that if he sounds uninterested enough, Sabin will take the hint and fuck off.

No such luck, of course.

“Hey! I kinda need you to open up your bullheaded skull, and absorb the words that are coming out of my mouth, through that thick layer of blubber that you call a brain, for just a damn second. I want a rematch, okay? Are you down or not?” Sabin mewls with an irritating whine in his voice that makes Kevin want to reach over and strangle the life out of him until that sing-songy lilt in his tone turns raspy and raw.

_-whoa-_

_-easy there kiddo-_

(...too much?)

 _-where is_ **_Sami?_ ** _-_

“Okay, you know what, this has been fun- and by fun I mean painfully aggravating- but I have to go mow my socks and wash my lawn, so if you will excuse me-” Even through the jokey, sarcastic tone, Kevin can’t help but flinch slightly at the hoarse desperation in his voice. He barrels past it as best he can, forcing the words out as he throws his title unceremoniously in his bag and spins around, ready to plow Sabin’s dumb ass over if he gets in his way.

Of course, Sabin just has to open his motherfucking mouth once more, before Kevin can put any distance between them. “The christ were you putting more tape on for anyway, we already fought tonight you absolute psychopath.”

That manages to draw Kevin up short in his retreat. He stops in his tracks and raises an eyebrow, going back and retrieving the discarded tape reel before tossing it back in his bag with a sigh. Resignedly throwing his bag back down _(not going anywhere now,_ **_goddammit_ ** _)_ Kevin examines his haphazard tape job, running his fingers over the covering, smoothing it flush with his skin, the anxiety in his gut easing slightly once it is fully in place. He should probably examine his desire to be in full battle gear, when there is no actual fights to be won, but that is nothing that Kevin really wants to think about.

Like, ever.

“Sabin, that is a weird, hysterically over dramatic thing to say or think about anyone. Me doing something as simple and mundane as wrapping up, is not at all strange or abnormal. You freaking out about it like a spastic little douche nozzle is, however.” Kevin doesn’t look up as he speaks, keeping his back turned to Sabin, flexing his fingers and forearms, watching the tape conform to the curves of his limbs.

“Sure dude, whatever. Nothing more normal than wearing a hole in the floor of an arena, in full regalia, waiting on your damn tag team partner to get done flirting with the only penis on planet earth with a god-awful haircut and an attitude to boot.” Sabin’s voice is even more annoying when he is talking about Generico, for some reason. Kevin actively has to clench his fists together and press his feet flat to the floor, so that he doesn’t stride over and punch a hole right through Sabin’s stupid skull.

“How is it any of your damn business what I do, or who I wait for? And for the record, I’m not _waiting_ on anyone, that scrawny bitch is not my tag team partner **tonight** , and even on his worst day, Sami would never ever **_flirt_ ** with lowlife scum like JoeyFuckingRyan. I mean, the little dumbass has horrible taste, but it’s not that bad.”

_-uh-_

(shut it)

 _-well i_ **_mean_ ** _-_

(swear to god-)

 _-it’s not like there was a_ **_lie_ ** _in there-_

 _-but did you really need to just_ **_blurt_ ** _all that out there like that?-_

(fuck you)

Sabin looks somewhere between amused and completely befuddled, his eyes studying Kevin uncomfortably closely as he cocks his head in contemplation. “You know, I never really thought about it, but-”

“Amigo!”

Kevin thinks about walking off in the other direction, but the cascade of tassels and bright smiles is barreling right towards him, and he has half a mind to meet the little fool halfway, this time.

(just this once)

_-yeah-_

_-_ **_that’s_ ** _a road you wanna go down-_

(already there)

(no going back now)

**_-Forever?-_ **

Kevin steps forward, and gets a face full of exuberant luchador, and an odd, bemused laugh from Chris. He doesn’t walk off, instead letting the ginger mess in his arms babble incomprehensibly about what a jerk Ryan is, the anger and petulance in his gravelly voice easing the gulf of tension in Kevin’s gut.

(there are **worse** places to end up)


End file.
